With a thrill of apprehension she saw that in place of the humble member of the congregation who usually attended there, the tall, fair-bearded Arch-Mystic known as George Norov was guarding the door.

Small though the incident might appear, it conveyed to her, as no spoken declaration could have done, the spirit of action and vigilance reigning in the House.
While the thought flashed through her mind, Norov surveyed her from his great height.
"You are in good time, my child; the Gathering is for eight o'clock." She looked up at him.
"Yes," she said, quickly.

"I know it is for eight o'clock, but I have come early.

I have come because I wish--" Her courage faltered before the intent, searching gaze of his blue eyes.
"I have come," she added, with gathered resolution, "because I desire private Audience with the Prophet--because there is something on my Soul of which I must unburden myself." The Arch-Mystic looked at her and his eyes seemed cold as steel.
"The Prophet holds private Audience only in the morning," he replied, in an even voice.
Enid flushed.
"I know that.

But there are exceptions to the rule--" The Arch-Mystic shook his head.
"The Prophet holds private Audience only in the morning." "But the Prophet is generous.